Page 10 of Tracked By Sasquatch

Her hands, delicate and soft, his, rough and stained.

She didn’t ask or push for more, they just sat there in a comfortable silence. He found that her not needling for more made him want to give it.

“Truth. My mom pushed me out at sixteen. A man, yes, man, as in a lot older, who was assumed to be the father, picked us up from the hospital. According to my Aunt Phoebe, who was the only one home at the time, they laid on the horn until she came outside. Mom thrust me into her arms and took off. No diaper bag, no note, no words. Just me in what the hospital provided, shoved into the arms of a ten-year-old on her actual fucking birthday.”

Devin’s hand tightened in his, but he couldn’t look into her eyes and see the look that caused it, or he might stop.

“My grandmother got home after her shift and cursed at being stuck with a kid to raise, wanting to drop me with the state. My aunt begged her not to, so the majority of the burden fell to my aunt. Even my name.” He heard an indignant and painful sob come from Devin.

“Right? Apparently, I didn’t even warrant enough for her to give me a fucking name. I’ve been worthless since the day I was born.” His voice was so low and laced with pain, he felt it cut deeper and deeper. He hadn’t meant for the last to slip out. That truth was only for him.

Now, it was for Devin too.

“No,” Devin gritted out.

When he looked up, she was speaking through clenched teeth. He’d never seen her that mad before. All for him?

“She is the worthless one. She didn’t deserve to name you. Neither did your father or your grandmother. That sorry excuse for a chip didn’t fall too far from the rotten tree it came from.”

Squatch couldn’t help the small scrap of humor that wove through his heart at her mixed-up analogy or metaphor or whatever the fuck you call those things.

“My Aunt Phoebe was great. Even as young as she was. I don’t remember the baby years, obviously. But I do remember when I was little, she got me up and made me breakfast every morning. When I started school, she packed my lunch and did my homework with me, even though she had her own to do. When Grandma died, she kept me. Even though she was only seventeen and still in school. She worked two jobs, so I never had to go without. It wasn’t ideal, leaving a first grader by himself after school but we made it work. The alternative was to let the state have me and she’d already fought that fight and said she’d be damned if that ever happened.”

Devin’s other hand patted their joined ones. “She sounds awesome. I’d love to meet her sometime.”

Squatch stared into Devin’s open face. Right there in the bar, he lost a little piece of his heart to her. It was decided. He would call Croon and ask permission to date his sister.

“I’d like that. I know she’d love the shit out of you.”

Devin pulled her hands away, and Squatch mourned the loss of contact. She tucked her hair behind her ear with an overly exaggerated motion and smiled a cocky smile. “Of course she would, I’m awesome.” Her words said confidence, but her eyes said anything but.

And just like that the mood was back to the more lighthearted tone it’d been earlier. He appreciated her ability to pull him back from the edge like that. It was something only his Aunt Phoebe could do without fail and his prez sometimes.

It was nice, not just because it lifted the gloom, but because he felt cared for. Like his pain mattered.

“That you are my little devious one. That you are.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet. It’s time for your dare.”

“Okay, lay it on me.” No matter what she dared him to do, he’d do it but only if he could extort a kiss from her later because of it.

He pulled his phone from his cut and held it in his lap and tapped out a text under the table.

SQUATCH: Brother, gonna date your sister. Not hit and quit. We’ll talk face to face tomorrow and you can take the shot then, but I wanted you to know now.

Devin was drumming her chin with her index finger as he looked up. “Let’s see.” She said as she scanned the bar. When he felt the phone vibrate in his hand, he looked down.

CROON: What the fuck. I thought you’d look out for her not fuck her. Damn right I’m taking the shot. Two for the fact you texted like a pussy instead of facing me.

Squatch smiled to himself and he sent a response. Croon was the polar opposite of what people pictured when they heard biker. A pretty boy who looked like he should be playing polo or some other rich sport. Even though he was raised in a run-down trailer, he looked like he belonged in a country club.

He didn’t point out that he didn’t fuck her yet, instead he texted him first. Squatch knew Croon wouldn’t appreciate that.

SQUATCH: I’ll give you two but only because as small as you are it’ll take that for me to even feel it. But I mean it—D A T E.

CROON: I should’ve known it would be you.

He’d barely had time to read the text before the next one arrived.